Irresistible
by upwiththebirds
Summary: XMFC - Charles was, Erik realized, somewhat irresistible in his button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows in the heat of the bar. The alcohol was definitely not helping. Cherik!


**A/N: **I am absolutely in love with these two. Seriously. They're so much fun.

This takes place on their good ol' road trip to pick up kids for their merry band of mutants. I've taken some liberties with the timeline. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: X-Men isn't mine, funny enough. Huh.

* * *

><p>Charles was, Erik realized, somewhat irresistible in his button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows in the heat of the bar. The telepath was laughing at something the bartender had said, and the laugh traveled all the way up his face to his eyes. He ran a hand absently through his hair, and Erik decided that messy-haired and rumpled was a good look on Charles. Too good of a look.<p>

He very forcibly turned his seat away, resisting the urge to reach out and do something stupid. Instead, he took a long swallow of his beer and thought of ways to dismember Shaw to keep from thinking about how absolutely _red_ Charles' lips looked in the light of the room. Which was stupid because Erik had much, _much_ better things to think about than anyone's lips, let alone Charles'. Hunting Shaw, for example. Yes, that was a safe thought. Much safer. And much more important.

He swallowed another gulp of beer and pointedly looked away as Charles flashed his bright smile all over the bar. Damn, was the room getting hot, or was it just him? And why the hell did girls keep coming up to the young professor, falling for that same cheesy mutation line every time? It wasn't even particularly clever, just sounded smart. Erik eyed Charles' latest girl with thinly-veiled contempt, watching as she looped an arm around Charles'. The telepath was babbling something about genes and being the forefront of human evolution, and the redhead was just drinking it in, her eyes bright as she watched Charles drone on and on. Erik was incredulous; did this routine actually work? _Ever?_

_You'd be surprised_, he heard in his head, followed by a twinge of amusement.

Erik scowled. _We have rules._

_I can't help it if you blast your thoughts out for every telepath within a ten-mile radius to hear_.

He was not blasting his thoughts. Absolutely not. Glowering at Charles and the girl and the world in general, he finished off his drink and motioned to the bartender for another one.

_You might want to slow down,_ Charles advised. _You're drunk._

_I am not,_ Erik projected back, just a bit childishly. He was definitely not intoxicated, not yet. Then, looking on as the girl very obviously brushed her lips against Charles' ear, he thought sourly, _Definitely not drunk enough._

Amusement that was not his seeped into his head, and he realized that Charles had heard that last thought. Damn. He clamped down on his mind, focusing instead on how exactly he wanted to torture Shaw before killing him. A quick death was entirely out of the question, had been out of the question years ago. It was only a matter of _how_ exactly to make the doctor suffer. So many tools at his disposal, so many ideas. He'd had years upon years to imagine his revenge. He'd start with knives, maybe, like Shaw had done to him. Shallow cuts, shallow wounds so the doctor wouldn't pass out. No, it wouldn't do to have Shaw unconscious for the best parts.

_Please, Erik. _Charles' voice sounded pained in his head. _Must you really think about this now? Here? _

Erik was about to apologize before he noticed that Charles had gone still in his seat and the girl was frowning, clearly aware that Charles had lost interest. She touched Charles on the cheek, and when he didn't respond, took a step back.

Erik smirked. _What? Am I interrupting your date? _

_What?_

By the time Charles turned back, the girl had wandered off to another lonely-looking man seated at the bar. Charles' brows drew together, and Erik couldn't help the vicious pang of satisfaction that shot through him.

Charles swiveled in his seat. "What, you've got a problem with me charming pretty girls?"

"No," Erik denied automatically. And then, maybe because he was loosened up from the drinks, he amended, "Maybe."

Charles frowned. "Why?"

Erik huffed and took a new beer bottle from the bartender. "Not going to try to poke around in my head to see?"

"No."

He huffed again and bought time by downing half his beer. Because honestly, he didn't have a straight answer for that one. It just rubbed him the wrong way to see girls hanging off of Charles, and he didn't have to have an explanation for that, damn it. It was just _wrong_.

"We're here to recruit mutants to the cause," he lied. "Not seduce women."

"Ha!" Charles eyed the beer bottle in his hand and said, "You aren't being too professional yourself, are you now? Getting all drunk like that."

"I am _not_ drunk," Erik retorted indignantly.

Charles laughed easily (which made his eyes entirely too blue, and Erik had to clench his teeth together to keep from saying something he'd regret later) and pried the beer bottle from Erik's hand. "That's enough of that now, my friend. If you don't want me _seducing_ girls, as you so coarsely put it, I won't have you drinking any more. We should go."

Erik harrumphed and got up, actually somewhat relieved they were leaving because that would mean he wouldn't have to watch girls ogle Charles all night. He slipped his jacket on and waited as Charles did the same. Then they headed out the bar door into the chilly night.

The slap of cold air sobered him up a bit, and he frowned, annoyed with himself for letting his thoughts run wild. Charles was most certainly _not_ attractive in his button-up shirt, his lips were most certainly _not_ a pretty shade of red, and Erik was most certainly _not_ envious of the girls in the bar. Certainly not.

Beside him, Charles grinned knowingly, and Erik scowled. "Are you poking through my thoughts again?" he accused.

"Not at all, my friend. I am merely sensing some…interesting emotions from you."

Damn. Telepaths were sneaky bastards. Erik tried to get a firm grip on his emotions and straightened. "Let's just go back to the hotel."

That damn grin was still on Charles' face. "All right." He followed Erik down the street, hands in his pockets. Erik thought he looked remarkably dapper like that, strolling along like the gentleman he was, looking for all the world like the professor he pretended to be.

And there went those thoughts again. His scowl deepening, Erik hunched his shoulders against the cold and hurried ahead a couple of steps so he wouldn't have to look at that charming grin that seemed to tug at his gut.

They were only two blocks from the hotel, and Erik gladly stepped into the warmth when they arrived. He headed up the stairs and pulled out his room key, Charles' footsteps echoing softly behind him. The telepath pulled out his own key and unlocked the room next to Erik's.

"We should get some sleep tonight," Charles said. "Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Is that just a feeling or do you know something I don't?"

Charles smiled. "Let's just say that our potential recruit doesn't have a very restful mind. Nor does she work in the most desirable of places."

At that, Erik narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Charles smirked and turned the doorknob of his room, taking a step inside.

And Erik grabbed his arm. He hadn't meant to do it, but there it was: his fingers on Charles' sleeve. For a moment, they both froze in surprise. There had been casual touches between them, sure, friendly pats on the back, but right now Erik's hand was closed down tight around Charles' arm, the contact warm and firm and entirely too heady.

Oh god. He really was drunk, wasn't he. Because that would be the only reason he found Charles' wide eyes mesmerizing, the only reason why he hadn't let go yet. That was the only excuse for what he did next, which was to summarily push Charles against the wall and whisper throatily, "Yes, actually, I would."

The telepath stared up at him with very wide eyes and managed, "W—what?"

"I _would_ like to know," Erik said patiently, not quite in control of himself and not quite able to bring himself to care.

Charles gaped up at him for a long moment. Then he said carefully, "Erik, you're drunk."

"Yes," he agreed, not moving. He was quite comfortable where he was, thank you very much. And since he hadn't yet attempted to escape, Charles was feeling the same way—that, or he was simply too shocked to move. Besides, the lighting and angle was working wonders for Charles' appearance. Not that he hadn't been attractive before, but the dimness cast an extra-alluring shadow on Charles' pale skin, and in the inches that separated them, Erik had a very clear view of his blue eyes. His _very_ blue eyes.

After a second, Charles cleared his throat. "Maybe you should go lie down. You aren't thinking very clearly."

Erik didn't budge. "Oh, I'm thinking very clearly."

Charles gently wiggled his arm from Erik's grip but stopped when he realized that Erik wasn't backing off. He sighed and said, "You're broadcasting quite loudly right now, and I happen to know that you aren't fully in control of yourself. So please, let's just go to bed."

That sounded like a good idea. That sounded like a _splendid_ idea.

Charles groaned. "That's _not_ what I meant, Erik."

"I'm drunk," he replied affably, as if that explained it all.

Then he pulled Charles into the open room, shut the door, and pressed a kiss to those red lips he'd been staring at all night.

Charles went stiff in his arms, tension vibrating through his body. Erik could have backed off—probably _should_ have backed off in that instant—but he was tired and drunk and this was _Charles._ So he pushed forward instead of pulling back, and within a few seconds, Charles pressed _back_. It was the most exhilarating moment of his adult life, to feel Charles responding to something he'd always thought was only one-sided. He was kissing Charles, and Charles was kissing him back, and was he dreaming or was this really happening?

Charles pulled away with a breathless chuckle. "I think this is too vivid for your even your imagination, my friend."

He was flushed and wide-eyed, panting slightly through his parted lips. Erik grinned and repeated, "I'm drunk. What's your excuse?"

For a moment, Charles just gave him an inscrutable look. Then he smiled and said, "Do we need an excuse for this?"

The only reason Erik heard the hint of uncertainty in the question was because he knew Charles so well, and maybe because being drunk had, strangely enough, made him more astute. In any case, he knew his answer was important. He wasn't lying when he answered silently, _No,_ and dipped his head to kiss him again.

They made an uncoordinated move for the bed, just managing to make it to the edge of the mattress before going down in a heap of tangled limbs. Yanking off Charles' jacket, Erik pushed up Charles' shirt, making it up to his midriff before buttons started popping. He broke the kiss and looked down, entirely too impatient to take the time to unbutton each one but not willing to destroy Charles' shirt.

"I'm rich," Charles panted, obviously just as impatient. "How many shirts do you think I own?"

That was all the encouragement Erik needed to pull apart the shirt, relishing in the sound of tearing cloth and buttons hitting the floor. He pressed another kiss to Charles' jaw, then his neck, pausing to nibble his collarbone. Charles gasped lightly and raised his leg slightly. It came up between Erik's own legs, and he groaned as Charles' knee brushed against his erection through his pants. He was already half-hard, on his way to fully-hard, and they'd barely even started.

"Off with these," Erik growled, tugging off Charles' slacks. They slid off easily, and Erik kissed his jaw again.

"That's not fair," Charles protested with an indulgent grin. "I'm practically naked, and you haven't taken off a stitch of clothing."

"Are you _always_ argumentative?" Erik asked. But he hauled his turtleneck over his head and tossed it away. His pants went the same way, and he didn't miss the way Charles' eyes traced his figure up and down appreciatively.

"Not always," Charles replied, reaching up to pull Erik back down to his level. "I just like a good debate."

"We're both nearly naked now," Erik whispered, nipping Charles' ear. "No debate about that."

Charles kissed Erik's neck, returned the nip on his collarbone, and added, "I never do things by halves either. Are we just going to settle for _nearly_ naked?"

No, no, apparently not. That situation was resolved half a minute later, and then they were left in the bed with just them, skin to skin and pressed gloriously close.

"We've been on this road trip for three weeks now," Erik muttered, pausing between words to press kisses to Charles' neck and chest. "What exactly have we been doing?"

"Why exactly weren't we doing _this,_ you mean?" Charles laughed. He let out a slight yelp as Erik bit his neck, which made the metal bender grin.

"That might bruise," he mused, looking down at the mark speculatively.

Charles groaned. "Perfect." Then his eyes narrowed, and he rolled them both over. Erik was surprised at his display of strength; the telepath really was stronger than his slight frame suggested. Before he could move, Charles was kissing his way up his chest and to his neck, using his tongue in a way Erik had never imagined Charles could do. He let out a sharp gasp, and Charles chuckled against his skin. _What? I'll have you know, I've seduced more than one girl in my day, and we didn't spend all our time talking at the bar._

Erik couldn't help the surge of jealousy that shot through him, and Charles' chuckle was more pronounced this time. _Really, Erik? Jealous?_

"Get out of my head," he said aloud, but the words didn't have nearly the bite they used to. Of course, Charles on top of him was distracting, to say the least. Growing impatient and painfully _hard_, he was about to flip them over again when Charles bit down on his neck.

He hissed through his teeth, and Charles leaned back to admire his handiwork. "I think that's going to bruise," he said smugly, reaching down to touch the mark with his fingers.

And he looked so sexy like that, his hair flopping down across his bright eyes, his lips half-parted in a self-satisfied grin, that Erik couldn't help himself. He rolled them over and settled himself between Charles' legs. _Really, I can't wait._

Charles' eyes widened for just a second before he nodded.

With a groan, Erik thrust in, and Charles let out a low moan that sent a tingle down Erik's spine. Charles' eyes were shut tight, one hand clenching the covers. Erik paused to allow them both to get used to the feeling, even though all he wanted to do was thrust for all he was worth. His legs trembled with the effort of keeping still, but he managed it. This was _Charles_ after all, and as drunk as he was, he knew that Charles was special. He was one thing Erik refused to hurt.

Charles' amusement ran up through his skin. _Thank you for the sentiment, Erik, really. _

_Are you good? _

_Yes, I'm good. _

_Thank god. _

He let himself move at last, and then they were silent for a long while.

* * *

><p>Afterwards, they lay side by side under the covers, neither of them willing to leave the warmth of the bed. Erik, who was working the alcohol out of his system, was beginning to see just how many liberties he'd taken that night and felt like banging his head against the wall. Stupid, <em>stupid<em> of him really, to do something so brash as to _kiss_ Charles without any sort of warning at all and being entirely unapologetic about it. What if Charles hadn't reciprocated? What if he'd frightened Charles off for good by being so bold? He could have destroyed their friendship so easily in a moment of drunken weakness. The thought made him shiver.

Charles stirred at his side. _Calm yourself. Really, what's the use of thinking of what-ifs when you already know what happened? _

But it was what _could have been_ that scared him. He couldn't believe he'd let himself go like that. He could usually hold his liquor well, and he'd never lost control like this before.

"And I'm glad you did," Charles said aloud, his brow furrowing. "Honestly, Erik, this wouldn't have happened otherwise."

Erik laid an arm over his eyes. "I'm drunk." _I took a huge chance._

"It paid off," Charles insisted. "And for what it's worth, you're the most coherent drunk I've ever seen. Even I'm a mess when I'm smashed."

That piqued a bit of his curiosity, and he slid the telepath a sideways glance. Charles laughed and added, "But of course, you won't see me hammered anytime soon."

"Well, that's a shame." It was probably immensely entertaining to see _Charles_ of all people carousing around a bar, drunk out of his mind. He wondered what sort of reckless things Charles did when under the influence and grinned a bit at the images his imagination conjured up.

Charles laughed too. "No, nothing that wild. At least, I don't think so. Raven usually gives me fairly accurate reports of what I do when drunk. She seems to think it's hilarious."

Erik thought it was probably hilarious as well and painted a mental image of Charles weaving around his mansion in nothing but his pajamas, a bottle of scotch in his hand as he staggered around the furniture. Charles snorted a laugh and hit his shoulder. "No, I never look that ridiculous."

"Of course, of course."

A comfortable stretch of silence passed. Erik tucked a hand behind his head and reached out with the other one to touch Charles' arm. The telepath gave him a quick look before slipping his fingers into Erik's hand. It was warm and easy and somehow more intimate than their earlier romp on the bed.

Erik was surprised to find that he actually kind of liked it. Maybe he was still drunk, maybe he wasn't, but he felt like he could lie here in bed forever with Charles next to him and be content.

"Yes," Charles murmured sleepily, "I could be too, my friend."

"Earlier," Erik said after a moment, "when you said the mutant we're looking for doesn't work in the most desirable of places—what did you mean?"

Charles opened his eyes and flashed him a lazy grin. "What did you think I meant?" He yawned and said, "She works at a strip-club five blocks from here." He grinned wickedly and added, "Plenty of girls to flirt with."

Erik's eyes narrowed automatically before he figured out that Charles was teasing him. Actually _teasing_ him about this. He leaned over and pressed a searing kiss on the edge of Charles' lips, grinning when Charles closed his eyes and exhaled softly. Then he kissed the bruise that was forming on Charles' neck just above his collarbone, stroked his hand down Charles' arm, and finished with a deep kiss to his lips.

Charles let out a shaky laugh and leaned his forehead against Erik's shoulder. "Well, you've successfully erased any thoughts of strippers from my mind."

"Good." He wasn't sure if the affection that rushed abruptly over him was his or Charles', but it felt incredibly right. He closed his eyes and listened to Charles breathing beside him. This was what peace felt like, wasn't it?

Charles yawned again. "Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"If I have a hickey in the morning, I'm going to kill you."

Erik reached up and felt the sore spot on his own neck. "You're quite the hypocrite."

"You wear turtleneck shirts all the time," Charles complained. "You're protected."

"So what?" Erik couldn't find it in him to be repentant. He liked to think that he'd physically left his mark on the telepath.

"I didn't think you were the possessive type," Charles said. He sighed and touched the bruise above his clavicle. "Will you lend me one of your shirts tomorrow?"

"What, and miss seeing you out and about with _that_ on your neck? No, thank you." Erik grinned and added, "You're young. People expect to see hickeys some time or another."

Charles frowned, his brows drawing together in a way that made Erik want to kiss him again. "I'm a professor, you know. I have to be respectable."

"Yes, yes." Erik reached up and ruffled Charles' hair, ignoring the telepath's narrow-eyed glare. Even annoyed, Charles looked more pitiful than threatening. Had he always been this cute?

"I am not _cute_," Charles grumbled.

_How about adorable?_

"How about incredibly manly?"

Erik snorted, and Charles scowled. Or tried to. It wasn't as menacing as he thought.

They settled comfortably back into the pillows, and Erik let out a sigh. "We should sleep, if what you're saying about this mutant girl is true."

"Yes, that's what I've been saying," Charles replied. "Then you went and distracted me."

Erik gave him a cool look. "I don't see you complaining."

"No, I suppose not." He grinned suddenly and said, "I have to admit, I quite like you drunk, Erik."

Erik hummed softly. "Yes, I like myself drunk as well." He glanced over to the telepath next to him and his smile widened. "I have to say, this worked out pretty well."

"Next time," Charles said with a long yawn, "you don't have to be drunk to do…well, _this_."

He raised his eyebrows. "Is that an invitation, Charles?"

_Do I have to make it explicit, Erik? _

No, definitely not. Erik sighed contentedly and closed his eyes.

For the first time in years, he slept a dreamless sleep.


End file.
